Further adventures in performing

More stellar moments ************************************

When I was in college studying music, our teachers often would post quotes and quips on the doors of their offices.  I remember a comic strip that I had once seen pasted to my voice teacher’s door. The singer was tragically clutching the piano as she turns to her accompanist, “whatever happens to me, keep going.”
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Here is another: (I have to paraphrase) After the soprano soloist is done singing at rehearsal, the conductor hoists his copious notes which spill over his music stand.
“Here’s the plan,” he says;  “cellos and violins come in early at Measure 10, violins at measure 30 accelerando, flutes at M. 120 ritard, trumpets at 45 play a b flat instead of b, entire orchestra write in a fermata at 330, and at measure 351 everyone pause for two counts.”
The singer says modestly, “and me, maestro, what should I do?”
“Don’t change anything!” he says, wiping sweat from his brow.
This is rather unfair to singers. These days we have to be excellent musicians, we have trained hard and studied for years.
But this is what nerves unchecked can do to one. I have spent my professional life dealing with them. I try to keep them at bay, but they keep traipsing after me like toilet paper stuck to the shoe at a formal function. I have conquered a lot of stage fright and don’t fall to pieces or lose my voice as I did years ago.
But I have my moments.
I was singing Christmas services and on either side of me were two people with perfect pitch.  I remember  thinking, “how unusual, they are both so sharp,  fa la, la, la.  Since when is she so out of tune? Fa,la,la, la, la,” and then my stomach dropped as it began to dawn on me…

Flash back to 30 years earlier at a production of Godspell when Jesus tells his disciple’s,  “one of you will betray me.”   It wasn’t the best production and we hadn’t got the hang of speaking at different intervals as one would in real life. We disciples cry-“Could it be me, Lord? Could it be me, Lord? Could it be me, Lord?
Oh yes, it was me, Lord! I was singing flat. The more I tried to fix it the worse I became.  All reason, along with my hard studied technique flew out the window. I was standing on tip toes, raising my chest;I couldn’t seem to help myself.

Consider this: If something is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.

I love this twist on the saying …if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.  There is a reason our teachers posted those comics, quotes and quips on their doors. Because they knew how hard performing could be, that you have to go through the uncomfortable work, the times when you are not so good, to get to your most polished performance, your most beautiful voice.

Adventures in Performing

Performing when you are an introvert with talent is hard. The first takes much from the second.  

Memories of my stellar moments

Years ago, I did a lot of auditioning for musical theatre in Los Angeles.  Usually they let you sing no more than 16 bars. The game was to get as much out before the inevitable, “Thank you very much, next!” was uttered.  I developed quite a phobia with the anxiety of proving myself before THE WORDS FROM ON HIGH WERE SPOKEN.   I was doomed before I started.

The day hadn’t started out well.  I had a cold sore which I tried to cover with a bit of calamine lotion.  “You have something on your face, dear,”   from the other actress’ didn’t help either.   This was when the musical, Annie, was popular.   I was going to sing, The Sun will come out Tomorrow.  Unfortunately, I overheard the director say, “If one more person sings, The Sun will come out Tomorrow, I will kill myself.”

Had I prepared anything else? I had not.

In my embarrassment, I started out at a faster pace than I meant to; the accompanist sped up in an effort to match me. I sang faster.

 Inside, my personal Jiminy Cricket was saying “for god’s sake get a hold of yourself.”
I was hurling unhelpful instructions at myself while I sang- tomorrow tomorrow…

“Don’t look at the accompanist, it is unprofessional,”   I told myself, in full panic, elbowing the cricket out of my way.  I love you tomorrow…
I was unconsciously going faster and faster, and the accompanist with an alarmed expression, I’m sure, was trying to keep up;   you’re only a day away!

When I was a young actress, all our teachers would say,  “never look at the accompanist when you perform, it’s unprofessional. Horrors!  The word unprofessional,  it was the bane of every young actor.

 Unprofessional unprofessional unprofessional unprofessional

But it was too late. I looked.
I had The Lady of Shalloted myself in the foot.

The Lady of Shalott

.

…Out flew the web and floated wide-
The mirror crack’d from side to side;
“The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

If this reference is too obscure, there is always Orpheus looking back at his wife, Eurydice, as he leads her out of the underworld;  this, after he was expressly warned not to look at her or she would be lost forever.  Or there is Lot’s wife turning into a pile of salt when told, do not look back, I repeat do not look back.

I mean, really, who could resist? I had to look.
Come to think of it, I think this was the audition where I didn’t get the “thank you very much, next!”    I think the director looked at me with undisguised contempt and told me to” have a lovely evening.”

The nerve of the man telling me to have a lovely evening.

On performing:dealing with nerves

 Performing can be  

                  Shattering                        

Race with myself

shattering        scary

quake  shhhhhhhhh

frightening  shake

 quake       scary  

shattering  

The runner, all pointy knees and sharp elbows is trying to get somewhere important.   In her anxiety she will end up way off course.  If she does find her way it will be with less grace than she would like.  She will be disappointed.  I am speaking in the singular because this picture holds one runner.

Don’t we often get in our own way?

One thing I know: Anxiety in performance will pull you far away from where you want to be. 

Nerves have been my adversary as a performer.  We should be on a first name basis by now,  boisterous bosom buddies, significant others, chums.

               ~Things I have learned along the way~

1. You can’t trick yourself into not being nervous, you are too smart to fall for it.
2. You can’t ignore nerves (see 1.)
3.  Pretend you are someone else (see 1.)
4. Insist that the audience is not there or worse, in their underwear (try performing with that image!) {see 1.}

Is there a pattern here?  Yes!  You are a smart person.  You recognize danger when you see it.

There is a great deal written on the subject of performance anxiety and most has value.  You can do yoga, exercise, meditate but I think these things have to be supplemental for the fact is, you’re not on the floor anymore doing the yoga poses.   You are not sitting in the dark anymore visualizing the ocean.   You are not running or walking in the fresh air anymore. You have taken yourself to a new environment. You are on stage and it has been at least an hour since you have done these exercises, so you are right back in your nervous state.

                               ~Food for thought~

1. Think in miniature~ Focus attention to small details. The smaller the better.   One of my best performances was when I was singing about the subject of home.  I could have focused on twenty different things, all that were supported by the text, but I know if my attention goes too wide I can’t concentrate properly.  So I thought of my cat.  Yes, my cat. I glowed the whole way through that song! (I have a plump and winning cat, don’t you know!)
2. Humor~ Anytime you can use humor it gives you a natural energy boost.   If it is appropriate, the audience will be with you.  I was singing a Cuban Lullaby which had funny names for the baby.  I hammed it up a bit for the baby. (Again, I focused on one thing, the baby)
3. Don’t forget the music~ know the music’s little details. Does the bass line have a driving pulse?  Maybe that can be the heart beat.  Your heart is beating strongly because you are missing your lover.  He is all that you can think about.  Focus on the bass line, sing, think of that heart beat, sing.  Perhaps the music is fluttering constantly in triplets.  Could that be butterflies?  Are they delightful in their color?  Are they all over the stage?  If this supports the words, see butterflies, sing, feel butterflies, sing.
4. Keep it honest You can’t feel what you don’t feel.    You will know and so will the audience.  If I needed to be wildly excited in an aria and I thought: I am going to the most wonderful party.  The man I love will be there.   There will be dancing and I will be the most popular one there!   That would be a terrible thing for me to think of; I hate parties, I can’t dance,  I would be hyperventilating because I have nothing to wear and I couldn’t sing a note.  I would be far better off thinking of a wild wind at night, of a thousand, no, a million stars! I would think of the northern lights.  That would be exciting.

Do I still give into my nerves?  Oh my, yes!  It is an ongoing process.  I fail all the time but it is important to me so I keep searching on ways to tell the story in music.

Below is Lang Lang giving a master class to young pianists.  Lang Lang is a perfect example of someone who is always engaged in the music.  He has a gift for imagery and humor.  In fact, he is doing everything I listed all at once!

One thing I know:  Telling a small musical story will pull you  where you want to be And you will pull the audience right along with you.

Performing can be           thrilling

          high    flying                      exhilarating                              exciting              fun